* Author’s Note: I would like to acknowledge the privilege I have of writing a satirical piece on the impact COVID-19 as no one in my direct family has been affected by this awful virus. Just today a friend posted about the painful loss of her mother as a direct result of the virus. I hold sacred space for her, and the thousands of families for whom this virus has touched mortally.
If you have children or friends with children, then you know the impact COVID-19 has had on the education system. School years were cut short, and at-school education turned into at-home learning. From a pedagogical standpoint, I firmly believe elementary-aged families were the most traumatized by the transition to at-home learning. Just when you were used to those little monsters being out of the house at school from 8-4…”we’re baaaaack!” And, all of a sudden, you realized your 5th grader actually does know more than you do. {[24-(3×6)] + 5}? Which planet comes directly before Earth? Bills about taxation originate in what committee? I’ll wait.
Direct education aside, perhaps impacted most uniquely by COVID-19 were graduating seniors, the class of 2020. I have two such cases in my house, a graduating high school senior, and a graduating college senior. Versions of shelter-in-place began emerging while my college daughter was on spring break. She had to come back to campus, move out of her sorority house, and finish the semester online at home. Both kids didn’t get to experience the rites of passage of being seniors. Maybe most disappointing was that they didn’t get to walk across the graduation stage in their gowns to receive a diploma. Fortunately, the robes did not go unused as our cat took it upon herself to don the graduation garb in my kid’s stead. 
Now, in the midst of all the “academic irregularity” we’ve experienced at my house, we’ve also experienced “domicile irregularity.” No, that’s not something that gets fixed with a high fiber diet or supplement, so let me explain. Since shelter-in-place, we’ve had four adults and two pets living in a modest home. We do not have a basement. We have been on top of each other in each other’s space. So, there’s that. BUT, we have a cat and a dog who have hilariously lived into the memes that went around about cat’s and dog’s experiences during COVID-19. Dog: “This is the greatest thing ever and I hope it never ends, I get to be with my people all day.” Cat: “This is the worst thing ever, when are these people going to leave?”
So, rightfully, while we’ve been focused on each other and coping with the stress caused by the numerous life changes during this period, I think we’ve overlooked the stress our pets experience. What are they doing to cope? Our Pitty, Hoppy, has become a Mama’s girl. My wife can’t go anywhere without Hoppy more than 4 inches away from her ankle. The cat, well, she’s a different story. Zephyr, our Calico who adopted us a few years back, has transitioned from a comfortable house cat to a savage backyard hunter. Her way of dealing with domestic overcrowding has been to embrace the tundra of her backyard gated community, where she has proven to be quite the lethal little hunter. Over the past several weeks she has proudly brought us all manner of small wildlife…birds, mice, chipmunks, you name it.
Fast forward to this past Tuesday morning. I was at my desk working when out of my peripheral vision I saw Zephyr trotting towards the OPEN patio door with a “dead” critter. I couldn’t get out of my chair fast enough to shut the door, and I’m shouting no, no, no, no. Too late. She walked right in and deposited the chipmunk on the carpet. Only, the chipmunk had been playing possum. The moment it was out of her clutches, it scampered away under my wife’s desk. I summoned my son and fetched two brooms for our tactical defense against this interloping rodent. With me on one side of the desk and my son on the other, we began to shrink our intruder’s world. Just when we thought…bam, got em, NOPE. Shriek, shriek, shriek, the little fella shot out from under the desk and around the corner into the dining room with tweedle dee and tweedle dum in hot pursuit. We had him cornered under the fireplace tools…bam, got em, NOPE. Back under the desk again. At this point, my son had to leave for work so he wouldn’t be late, so it turned into a solo mission…temporarily. I poked, prodded, A HA, there it is…bam, got em, NOPE. The varmint scampered away so quickly I lost visual contact.
Perplexed, and with no sign of the runaway, I sat back down at my desk (with the broom close by) nervously working away on my computer figuring our little friend would show itself sooner or later. A short time later the guilty party responsible for this whole fiasco began approaching the back of my desk. Zephyr skulked forward in a low crouch, her tail slowly swishing back and forth. I grabbed the broom and braced for our second encounter. There was a tense stand-off. As Zephyr got closer, a piercing sound kind of like a homing signal emerged from behind the bookcase. You, swarthy opponent, have just unwittingly given up your position. I called for backup, this time my wife. There the two of us were on either side of the bookcase, brooms at the ready. A HA, there it is, I trapped him in the corner…bam, got em, NOPE. There it is under the computer…bam, got em, NOPE.
Once again, furry fury scampered away so quickly we were unsure of its whereabouts. We thought maybe under the couch. So there I am, on all fours with a flashlight in one hand, and a broom in the other trying to flush this thing out in the open, but to no avail. Lost em, again! Damn. This menace could be anywhere. Feeling defeated, I went back to my desk, and my wife went to the bathroom. SCREAAAAAAM! Door slam! “Oh my God, Oh my God, it’s in the bathroom, it’s in the bathroom!” This new battle in our rodent war was loud enough that it actually rousted my sleeping college daughter, who emerged groggily and appropriately asking WTF?
“Okay, you two, set the perimeter, here, and here, I’m changing weapons.” Standing on either side of the short hall to the bathroom were my wife and daughter with brooms and towels. I went to the garage seeking superior weaponry to meet the battle methods of my clever little friend. I decided at this point it was going to be hand to claw combat, so I picked up a racquetball racquet, safety goggles, and a medium-sized Tupperware container. “I’m going in. Do not open this door no matter what you hear!” Heart pounding, I went in and closed the door behind me. “Okay, it’s just me and you! Mano y clawo.”
Drama. Silence. Survey the situation. The shower scene from Psycho. Rip the shower curtain back, gasp…NOPE. Quick scan. There is only one other place…rigggght, behind the toilet. Sure enough, there it was. Finally, I had it trapped. I’m going in to finish this thing…bam, got em, NOPE! Ferocious fired between my legs headed for an escape under the door. Not so fast my friend, I had instructed my back up to block the exit. This was my best chance. I could see the look of terror and confusion in the little fella’s eyes. Right there in that instant, a momentary pause, and I seized it. I lunged forward pinning it to the floor with the racquet, and in one seamless motion, put the Tupperware bowl on top, and slid the bowl on top of the racquet. Bam, got em, YEP!
I emerged triumphant from the bathroom, and calmly walked past my backup crew who was looking back at me in stunned disbelief, and past the cat looking at me like, “Hey, that’s mine, gimme, gimme.” NOPE. This little fella is returning to its herd in the wild. You, furry friend, have fought with dignity and honor. You have done all members of Rodentia Sciuridae proud. No, today will not be the day of your last full measure.
Now, on the other hand, this silly cat…
Brisket & Brawn 